Hometown Girl (5 page)

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

“Baby, I’ve never been so sure of anything in my entire life.”

When he kissed her again, he knew something major had happened. He’d spent most of the night watching her sleep and wondering what the hell was going on with him. He’d chalked it up to taking her virginity, but that wasn’t it. He felt possessive in ways he never had before—hell, he’d even felt that way about her when she was at the Crow’s Nest last night—which made absolutely no sense. He’d wanted to break the neck of every guy who so much as looked at her. He wanted Fitz for his own. It was as simple and as complicated as that.

As if that realization wasn’t mind-boggling enough, it wasn’t what kept him awake and hard all night. Whatever it was he was feeling went way beyond just possessiveness; he’d wanted to know everything about her—and not just her name. He wanted to know how she drank her coffee, what her family was like, and if she squeezed the toothpaste from the middle or the bottom. He wanted to know what she wore under every piece of clothing and be the only one with that information. He wanted to know what she read, what kind of music she loved and hated, and what her favorite color was. God, he was completely and utterly fucked.

* * *

Elyse
wondered if she’d stepped into some kind of alternate reality. Simon wanted her to spend the day with him. When she realized he wasn’t asking her because he felt guilty or obligated, she was tempted to pinch herself to prove she wasn’t dreaming. As he closed the distance between them and his mouth crashed down on hers, hard, possessive, and achingly familiar, she realized reality was way better than any of the childhood dreams she’d had starring Simon Sprague. Her adolescent brain could never have imagined what his body felt like against hers, or the feelings and needs all that pent up energy, emotion, and his big, hard body invoked in hers.

He kissed her in a way no one ever had—not even last night. He dragged the air from her lungs in some kind of emotional CPR. She knew how it felt to be wanted—physically, at least, but this . . . She melted, body and soul. “God, Simon, I need you.”

Before she knew what happened, he had her halfway to the bedroom. He’d ripped the shirt right off her back, yanked her bra down, and his mouth wreaked havoc, drawing on her breast, nipping, licking and sucking as if his life depended upon it. She tugged off his shorts as he popped the button on her jeans and shoved them down and then grabbed a condom.

She cursed the fact that she’d worn skinny jeans—not an easy thing to get out of in a rush. She jumped around, dragging out one leg before she tumbled onto the bed and was covered with a shaking Simon.

Elyse wrapped her legs and arms around him and stared into his eyes reeling with the connection.

Simon entered her in one quick thrust, tossing her straight into an instant orgasm so strong, she cried out.

His eyes stared into hers and the emotion she saw there thrilled and scared her—there was need, desire, heat, fear, possessiveness, and, if she wasn’t imagining it, something much deeper, much scarier. No. She closed her eyes. Imagining him in love would only end up breaking her heart. She’d thought she’d been in love with him for most of her life. But her feelings for Simon now, her hopes and dreams, weren’t in the same galaxy as her feelings a mere twenty-four hours ago. She’d ju
st imagined the love she swore she’d seen in him.

“Fitz, look at me.”

She opened her eyes and felt tears trail down the sides of her face. She wanted to shut off her brain and just feel, wanting to lose herself in the incredible sex, to banish everything but her body, his body, and the delicious lightning strikes of sensation burning through her, urging her on.

She crested a hill, reaching for a peak so high, she wondered if it was possible to scale. The closer she got, the more she craved, and the more she demanded. She met his every thrust, dug her heels in, arched her back, and bit his shoulder.

Simon lifted her, changing the angle, and like a match to a fuse, she exploded, shooting higher and brighter than she ever thought possible. She heard his cry of release, felt his body jerk and held on through the storm raging through them.

Her breathing was ragged, her heart pounding so hard that she was afraid she’d bruise a rib.

Simon’s hold on her was so tight, she wasn’t sure where she began and he ended as they clung to each other. She wondered if he was as afraid to let go of this moment as she was.

He rolled over, pulling her along with him as if she weighed nothing. “Fitz, are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“I made you cry.”

She shook her head and blinked back tears that threatened. “No you didn’t. I don’t know what it was. I guess it was just a physical release. You overwhelmed me.” God, she hoped he bought it, because there was no way she’d ever tell him that she loved him.

She couldn’t tell him, but she could show him. She reached up, took his face in her hands and kissed him, pouring all the love she’d ever felt for him into the kiss like helium into a big, beautiful imaginary balloon. She pictured holding it close and admiring it, and then releasing it. She let it fly away just like Simon would when he learned the truth. After all, some things were doomed from the start.

* * *

“Hungry?”
Simon scrubbed the towel over his body and watched Fitz pull the scrunchie out of her hair she’d piled on top of her head before he tugged her into the shower a few minutes ago.

“Starving.” She held the bath sheet around her and stared at him through the foggy mirror.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, making sure to dislodge the corner of the towel she’d tucked between her breasts to hold it up. “Babe, if you keep looking at me like that, we’re never going to make it out of this loft.” He kissed her shoulder and grazed her earlobe with his teeth. “Brunch it is.” He gave her a love-tap on her bottom. “You’d better go and find another one of my shirts to wear while I shave. You’re too much of a distraction, I’ll end up slitting my own throat.”

He watched her slip out of the bathroom and still ended up cutting his chin rushing to get back to her. He found her dressed in another one of his shirts, blue pinstripe, sitting on his bed, and fingering the shirt he’d all but ripped off her earlier. “I think it’s way beyond saving.”

She seemed surprised to see him. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. Once we go through my button-down shirts, we can start on my T-shirts.” He tugged the mangled piece of fabric out of her grasp, and got dressed before one of them changed their minds. He put on his watch, grabbed his cell phone and wallet, and then pulled her off the bed. “We’d better go before I get any other ideas.” And he was having definite ideas—but even he needed to eat.

“Oh, okay. If you still want to. If not, I could just grab the ferry back to the city.”

“I thought I talked you into spending the day with me. Have you changed your mind?”

“No, but—”

He cut her off with a kiss. “You’re starving, remember? Come on. The first stop on our tour is Fort Defiance for brunch. You need to keep your energy up.” He took her hand and led her out of the loft, down through his mess of a studio, and out onto the pier.

Something had happened between the time they made love and when he came out of the bathroom. Fitz had taken a giant step back. Maybe she was unsure of how to proceed, which, come to think of it, meant they were in the same boat. Still, Simon wasn’t about to let her avoid whatever the hell this thing was between them.

He held her hand on the walk to Fort Defiance and let her stew until they tucked into their meal. He cut a piece of steak and watched her toy with her Dutch pancake and stab a strawberry. “So, tell me about you and Dave.”

“There is no me and Dave. I told you, it was a blind date.”

“Yeah, that’s the thing I don’t get. You’re beautiful, intelligent, funny, and sexy as hell. Why would you need a blind date?” He leaned in close. “And how the hell did you keep your virginity until last night.”

A horrified look crossed her face.

“Hey, I’m not complaining. I’m glad. I just don’t get it.”

Fitz closed her eyes and blushed furiously, either from embarrassment or anger. He hoped it was embarrassment. “I’ve dated some, but it was never right. I’m twenty-four years old. It was well past time to well . . . you know. Anyway, I decided this weekend would be it.”

Simon dropped his fork, his meal forgotten. His mouth had dropped open, so he closed it, clenching his teeth so tight, his jaw ached, and he suddenly felt a little sick.

“This would be the weekend I’d lose my virginity, and Ronna had heard Dave was amazing in bed, so I went out with him.”

“You were going to let that guy—” He couldn’t even say it. He curled the cloth napkin in his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white, wishing he could pound something. Just the thought of Dave and Fitz together had him seeing red.

“No.” Fitz waved her hand as if she were swatting away something as meaningless as a fly. “The second I met him I knew I couldn’t go through with it. I figured this weekend would be an abysmal failure—until I ran into you.”

“So I was your second choice? That’s why you came home with me?” So he meant nothing more to her than a good lay? She’d used him?

“No, I went home with you because I wanted you. No one else. I guess that’s been my problem all along. I’ve never found anyone I wanted to be with. Only you.”

He stared into Fitz’s eyes and saw nothing but honesty. Okay, so she went looking for something—he’d known that the second he laid eyes on her. He just didn’t know what that something was. Still, he was relieved she’d chosen him.

“I understand you’re angry. I just thought that if you knew, you wouldn’t have . . .” She hid her face in her hands. “God, this is so embarrassing.”

“I’m not angry. I’m honored.” He just never wanted to think of her with anyone else but him.

She slid her hands down to cover her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. “Really?”

“Really. So do you have work tomorrow? You mentioned you were doing an internship.”

She took a sip of her coffee and cut off a piece of her pancake. “Yes, I do. I’m also working on my thesis. It’s just about done so I need to meet with my advisor too.”

“Are you free for dinner? There are a few new places I’ve wanted to check out in your neck of the city.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, it’s my night off. I’m working the rest of the week, but that doesn’t mean you can’t come by the bar.”

“It doesn’t?”

“Fitz, I meant what I said. Last night was just the beginning.”

“Oh.” She stared at her plate as if she’d never seen it before and then looked anywhere but at him.

“Are you having second thoughts?” Or third thoughts . . .

“No. I just . . .” She wiped her mouth with her napkin and set it back on her lap and leaned forward. “I know you, Simon—or at least I did. You’ve always had a never-ending stream of temporary girlfriends. They might last a few weeks, or even a month, and they all seem really happy until you dump them. I’m trying to figure out what this is the beginning of. Your typical one-month fling?”

Shit. His father had always told him his past would come back to bite him in the ass. “No. There’s nothing typical about you and me—us. This is all new territory for me. This thing between us is special. I want to see where it goes.”

“So you’re looking for a relationship? With me?”

Shit, when she put it like that, it didn’t sound quite as exciting as ripping off her clothes on a continual basis, making love every opportunity they got, and spending time together like this, well, minus the uncomfortable conversation and her deer-in-the-headlights look.

He picked up his coffee and took a sip to stall for time and hoped to God his hand didn’t shake. He really did want to get to know her, to go to bed with her at night and wake up with her the next morning. He wanted to find out all the stuff that people found out about each other when they were more than just bed buddies. He set his coffee on the table, took her hand, and leaned in close. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m looking for. I want a relationship with you.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Elyse’s heart kicked up a conga beat. Simon wanted a relationship with her, which was almost as astounding as the way he looked—sincere and nervous as all get out. She wished she could take a picture and text it to Mel. Not that she was reveling in his discomfort or anything, but Mel had always thought her brother was incapable of being nervous. She called him Super Simon—able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, date any woman he wanted, and break hearts without ever having his touched. And until now, Elyse had believed it too.

“I’m not asking you to marry me, Fitz. I’m just asking you to give us a chance. I’m asking you to be mine.”

Sometimes, like now, he’d look at her as if he really remembered her, as if he knew their history, but then the look would disappear. Once he put all the pieces together and realized who she was, it would be either really good, or really bad. And the way her luck ran, she’d put her money on bad, really, really bad. Still, she’d come this far, why end it now? If she did, she’d have as much of a broken heart as she would later. The hand that held hers was becoming decidedly damp.

“Does it usually take this much time for you to make a decision? Not that I’m rushing you. I just want to know for future reference.”

She couldn’t keep the smile from her face. “It’s a big decision.”

Simon sat back, locked his knuckles behind his neck, and grinned. “Maybe we should make a list of pros and cons. Pros first. I’m great in bed.”

She couldn’t discount that. “Well, you’re definitely self-assured, but then I don’t know if that’s true. I have no one to compare you to.”

“I clean out the refrigerator and take out the garbage.”

“You left the garbage on the fire escape.”

“Hey, that counts. And you gotta admit, I finally learned how to clean.”

“After years of watching your maid.”

“I rescued you from Dave.”

“You did not.”

“I helped Francis get rid of him. That counts too.”

“Yeah, you held his apron.” She let out a theatrical sigh and clasped her hands together close to her chest. “My hero.”

He gave her his patented sexy smirk, looking way too confident.

She leaned back in her chair mirroring him. “Okay, let’s move onto the cons.”

“Of you saying no or yes?”

“Yes. If I agree to a relationship, you won’t have any shirts left.”

“I can live with that if you can. I have no problem with you walking around my loft naked.”

She couldn’t hide the blush heating her face. Her mind went completely blank.

“Is that all you’ve got? You can’t think of any more cons, can you?”

She couldn’t think at all—not with him looking at her like he was imagining her naked. And definitely not with her body humming beneath his heated gaze. It was all she could do to swallow and not fidget in her chair. She crossed her legs and found herself leaning toward him—drawn to him like a fish that was good and hooked. Dammit.

“It looks like the pros have it.”

She sat there with her mouth hanging open while he went back to eating like it was a done deal.

He took the last bite of his breakfast and pushed his plate away. “Has all this relationship talk ruined your appetite? Or are you just hungry for something else? We can go to Steve’s.”

Her mind got stuck on the whole idea of being hungry for something else. All she could think of was dragging him back to his place.

“Steve’s Authentic Key Lime Pies—they’re awesome. Or if you’re in the mood for something richer—there’s always the Lobster Pound. They have the best lobster rolls anywhere.”

She raised her hand to get the server’s attention. “Check, please.”

Simon raised an eyebrow. “What’s it gonna be?”

“Key lime pie to go, and then you—the combination has definite possibilities. I’ve always had a sweet tooth.”

* * *

After spending the day running all over Red Hook, Simon took Fitz to his favorite food find in his neighborhood—the Ball Fields, where dozens of lunch trucks sold the best Latino food in New York. You could get anything from tacos to huaraches and ceviche. There was always great food and a fun atmosphere but it had never been as much fun as it was today. He stood in line and watched Fitz sweet-talk the usually brusque food vendor into tasting something for the third time. Something clicked, and he knew this wasn’t the first time he’d marveled at Fitz’s habit of taste-testing everything before deciding what to eat. Again he had a vision of his mother’s kitchen before he lost it. He hadn’t really spent time at home since he graduated, and before then, he wasn’t much for bringing friends home. He ran through the list of his old girlfriends, the list of his friends’ girlfriends, and then the list of his girlfriends’ friends trying to place her. He came up with nothing. He shook his head and turned his attention to the people behind them in line, waiting for someone to start an uprising. But everyone else he saw watching her wore the same expression he’d seen on his own face when he wiped off the remains of the key lime pie he’d licked off her stomach hours earlier. Every man was charmed, and the women, whom he expected to get uppity about the attention she garnered, seemed to get a kick out of her.

Fitz finally placed her order, looking over her shoulder at him and laughing at something the big guy in the truck said. She threw her head back, her long hair flying in the breeze, and answered him in fluent Spanish. The guy staring down at her wore a goofy grin, and Simon knew enough Spanish to know he was telling Fitz how beautiful she was, which only earned the poor sap another snort of laughter and a smart retort Simon wasn’t able to follow in Spanish. He might not have known what she said in Spanish, but he knew what she would say in English. Fitz slid beside him, wrapping her arm around his waist, and when she looked at him with laughter in her eyes and a pink tinge to her cheeks, he knew he loved her.

He’d known her less than twenty-four hours—that he could remember—and it hit him like a sledgehammer, stole the breath from his lungs, and set his head spinning.

He remembered his father telling him what falling in love was like, back when they were still speaking. He’d watched his father needle his mother until he drove her to call him a detektiv-kopf—a dickhead in German. Once she did, he’d smile at her, and she’d smile at him, and the two of them would disappear upstairs for at least an hour.

When Simon was sixteen, he finally got up the nerve to ask his dad what the deal was. His father told him the first time Simon’s little bit of a mother called him a detektiv-kopf, he fell head over heels in love with her. And every time she called him a dickhead in German, it reminded him how he felt the moment he fell in love for the last time.

“What’s wrong?”

Simon tried to smile through his shock. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Really? You look like you have a bad case of indigestion.” Fitz looked toward the crowd in line behind them, still waiting to place their orders. “We’d better pay for our food. All these people are staring at us.” She reached into her purse for her wallet, and he stilled her hand.

“I’ve got it. And you’re wrong. They’re not looking at us, they’re looking at you.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Only about you. Go on,” he handed her the food, “get us a table and I’ll buy something to drink.”

She went up onto her toes, her hands full of food, and kissed him. “I’m crazy about you too.” Then she spun around and headed for the picnic area.

Simon stood there like a fool and watched her walk away. He really loved the way she moved. Hell, he loved every damn thing about her. And he still didn’t know how the hell he knew her, but it felt as if he knew her better than anyone else he’d ever known. He was completely fucked.

* * *

Elyse sat at the table and set their plates and plastic utensils down, wondering what she was thinking ordering a huarache. She’d be wearing it as surely as she wore the key lime pie earlier. But this time she’d be fully clothed and Simon wouldn’t be licking the remnants off.

Her phone rang and she didn’t bother to check the caller. “Hello?”

“Elyse, it’s Mel. Whatcha doin’?”

“Getting ready to eat. I’m kind of on a date. I can’t talk. Can I call you tomorrow?”

“Are you with that guy Dave you went out with last night?”

“No, but my date is getting drinks. He’ll be back any minute. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Why not tonight?”

“Mel . . .”

“You did it, didn’t you? You had sex with that guy Dave?”

“No, not Dave. I can’t talk. I’ll call you just as soon as I can. I promise.”

“Was it good?”

“Fantastic. But I really have to go.”

“Man, it seems everyone has a love life except me. Even my brother is dating someone.”

“How do you know?”

“He told me when I called him this morning. She was in the shower. Do you believe it? He actually let someone spend the night. I was just calling to tell you the bad news. It seems Simon is really hung up on this woman. He said she’s special. He’s never said anyone was special before—at least not in a good way, and this woman must be good.”

“Who is she?”

“I haven’t a clue. He wouldn’t give up any information except that he’s known her for years. I’ve been wracking my brain all day.”

“Look, I would love to chat about this, but I can’t right now. I’ll call just as soon as I can. Promise.”

Mel let out an agonized sigh. “I can’t believe you finally had sex and I get no information. You’re about as forthcoming as Simon.”

“Must be something in the air. I’ll call you soon. Love you, bye.” Elyse hit the end button and was tempted to bang her head against the table. What the hell was she going to tell Mel? And if she knew Mel, and she did, the woman would be stalking her apartment until she could wring every last bit of information out of her. Man, she was so screwed.

“Something wrong?”

Elyse stashed her phone in her purse and looked into Simon’s concerned eyes. “No, not wrong. Just a pushy friend wanting information.”

“What did you tell her?”

“You’re assuming it’s a her?”

“Am I wrong?”

“No, but I have p
lenty of male friends.”

“Sure, but they’re probably not pushy. At least not when it comes to getting information. So?”

“I think you’re wrong about the whole pushy thing. You’re being pretty pushy yourself.” It must run in the family. God, she really dug herself into a hole this time.

“I’m not pushy, just curious. Did you tell your friend about us?”

“No, I told her I’d talk to her later.” Unless she could possibly avoid it. She definitely didn’t want to tell Mel until whatever this thing was between her and Simon was settled—which meant he’d either have to figure out who she was or she’d have to tell him. And that was one thing she’d like to put off for as long as humanly possible.

“How come?”

“I’ll take Dumb Question for a thousand, Alex.” He didn’t laugh. “Not a fan of
Jeopardy
?”

He didn’t answer—he just watched her while the
Jeopardy
theme song played in her head.

She’d gotten through an entire stanza before she gave up. “What is: Because the last thing I want to do is have a conversation about you in front of you? Okay?” She rolled her eyes.

Simon finally sat and set a drink in front of her. “I got you a
jugo de sandia
—watermelon juice.”

“Thanks.” She took a sip and groaned. “Wow, it’s just like in Mexico. This is wonderful. Thanks for bringing me here. I never knew this place existed.”

“So, what are you going to tell her?”

So much for changing the subject. “Probably everything—except for the fact you snore. I’ll keep that to myself.” Not that Mel wouldn’t already know. God, how do you talk to your best friend about having sex with her brother—repeatedly?

“I do not snore.”

“Oh yeah, you do.” She took a bite of her huarache and thanked God half of it didn’t end up in her lap.

“You rub your feet together in your sleep.”

She shrugged and swallowed her mouthful, chasing it down with watermelon juice. “I don’t like having the sheets tucked in. My feet are always trying to escape.”

“So why didn’t you untuck the sheets?”

“My mind and body were too pleasantly engaged to think about my feet being trapped.”

Simon got that glazed look in his eyes that told her he was thinking of all the things he’d introduced her to in bed and out of it before taking a bite of his food. At least he stopped questioning her about Mel. He proceeded to inhale his lunch as she did her best not to wear hers. When he pushed his empty plate away, she’d only eaten a quarter of hers.

“Do you have your own place, or do you have roommates?”

“I have my own place, but my best friend has a key. She’s probably on her way there as we speak. She’s got to be the most impatient person in the world. Especially when she’s on a mission.”

“Okay, we’ll stay at my place tonight. What do you think about hanging out and watching movies?”

“I can’t stay over tonight. I have to work in the morning.”

“I know. I’ll drive you home early.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can just take the ferry back tonight.”

“I thought we were going to spend the day together.”

Elyse put her hands out. “What do you call this?”

“Okay, we can stay at your place tonight.”

“No, we can’t. I told you, my friend is probably already waiting to ambush me.”

“I’ll be there to protect you. Besides, I’d like to meet your friends. You met most of mine last night. Well, except for Pete.”

“Who is Pete?”

“Pete Calahan owns the Crow’s Nest. He’s the father I never had.”

“You have a father.”

“Not one who talks to me, unless I’m doing his bidding. Pete’s different. He’ll tell you what he thinks, but he doesn’t try to run your life. He’s a big ex-cop who fostered three kids and just about everyone else in the neighborhood. Hell, if he could turn a guy like Francis around, he’s a veritable miracle worker.”

“Francis looks like a teddy bear.”

“Yeah, now he does, but way back when he was known as Frankie ‘The Bruiser’. I’m told he beat up Storm and Logan, Pete’s foster sons, one time too many, and Pete made Francis work off the cost of Logan’s emergency room visit. He turned Francis’s whole life around, and Francis has been working at the bar ever since. He’s also a paramedic—so he helps out on his days off.”